Flavor of the Week
by Egglette
Summary: Single and lovin' it, Gar Logan was fine with his life. But when he is forced into a dating show, it'll take all his willpower not to fall for the director. BBRae, other possible pairings such as RobStar, CyKole, and KFJinx.
1. Isn't Irony Fun?

**Welcome, one and all! Ladies and gents, I give you a very bad story!**

**Disclaimer: If anyone actually reports me for not saying I don't own TT, I will just leave this site. >>**

**Summary: Single and lovin' it, Gar Logan was fine with his life. But when he is forced into a dating show, it'll take all his willpower not to fall for the director. BBRae, other possible pairings such as RobStar, CyKole (Sue me), and KFJinx.** _

* * *

_

"And it's down to two, Gar. Who do you pick?"

_Gar's lips curved into a grin. "Neither."_

_"N-neither? Gar—you need to pick someone," Rich said in lower tones. _

_"Actually, Rich, I am going to pick someone," Gar's eyes slowly moved past the two girls and offstage, to the crew._

_---_

"…And the Oscar goes to…" The woman tore open the envelope, "Gar Logan!"

Amidst the roaring crowd, a young man got up from his seat and jumped up the steps. Grabbing the golden statue, he raised it high above his head and let out a whoop. "Alright, alright, settle down. So when someone wins one of these things, they give a speech right, get teary, and the works? Well I'm not gonna cry—okay, I might, but not in public, but a speech I will give:

"So the reason I wanted to be an actor was to rebel from my father. When I told him what I wanted to do, he laughed and said I'd be a bum living on the street. So this is for you Dad, just rubbing it in.

"Uh…that aside, I want to thank the Academy, because if you didn't vote, then there wouldn't even be this shebang, my manager and best friend Vic, the big scary guy I was sitting next to—you know, the kind you don't want to get into a cage match with, my mom, who would probably beat Vic in a cage match, and you should all thank my stylist Kori, because if I wasn't so afraid of hr, I'd be in my jeans. I still love ya, Dad, so you too! And don't think you're rid of me yet, I'll be presenting in twenty!"

He saluted with two fingers and glided down the steps. He plopped down into his third row seat next to a dark-skinned man with gray-blue eyes. Instantly giving the man a high-five, he whispered to him, "Who's your Daddy now?"

_---_

As the black limo pulled away from the screaming crowd, Gar instantly loosened his tie and pulled his shirt out. "I swear, do they _want_ me to go blind? One girl, tried to rip off my sleeve. My _sleeve_, Vic. It's—it's—"

"It's great!"

"What?"

Vic leaned forward in the seat. "Barney, take us to Antonio's."

Gar groaned. "Vic—I want to go home."

"Quit your whining; we're celebrating! Besides, Kori and I planned to go there whether you won anything or not."

"Yeah, where was Kori? She usually doesn't miss that kind of thing."

Vic shrugged his shoulders. "Dunno, man. Her phone's been busy all night—all I know is that she got some idea and has been calling around all night."

"Isn't that supposed to be your job?"

"Yeah, shut up. Lemme see that thing," he grabbed the golden statue, "Hey! You can see my reflection in its butt.

"Listen man, we really need to talk about this rainforest thing. You need to tell someone about it. I mean, what good is it going to do you?"

"It's not about the publicity, dude! It's about giving back to Mother Nature."

"Yeah, I'd like to give something back to Mother Nature too. It's called global warming; we don't want it."

"We're the one who caused global warming, you idiot. And you're just saying that because your stupid gadgets wouldn't work on the camping trip."

"Forty-seven bug bites, Gar! Forty-seven!"

Barney twisted in his seat, "We're here."

They were greeted at the simple looking pizza shop by a balding man with a clearly Italian accent, "Gar! Vic! Welcome, ah welcome!"

He set them down at an already occupied table by a pretty woman with auburn hair and green eyes that challenged Gar's.

"Three vegetarian, Antonio," Gar said.

Vic grunted. "Not tonight…"

"Hey! It's my night!"

Antonio scribbled something down on the paper and walked off. Vic instantly excused himself seconds later and ran after. "Hey Antonio, just give us one vegetarian, one meat lover's, and…you know what Kori likes."

The Italian smiled. "I shall'a get the mustard, a'then!"

Back at the table, Kori was digging through her purse. She had already pulled out a business card. She finished by bringing out a white iPod. "What's that?"

"Gar, I know I'm just your stylist, but let's face it, I do Vic's job for him."

He shrugged, "True."

"Let's go over your career right now. You just won an Oscar, you haven't partied drunk, you haven't driven drunk, you haven't been in jail, you don't sleep around madly, you donate and volunteer without telling anyone, you've worked in Africa and the Amazons, and let's face it, and it's driving the paparazzi crazy!"

"What's your point?"

"Just roll with me. The tabloids can't seem to get anything on you, and it's only making you more popular. We need to give the fans something!"

"What happened to the foreign, sweet, naïve girl I knew in high school?"

Kori frowned. "She moved to Hollywood."

As Vic resumed his seat, Kori switched on her iPod and passed it around. Vic chuckled when it came to him. The minute Gar slipped the white headphones into his ears, all he heard was, "Flavor Flav!"

He threw the video iPod onto the table, yelping as he did so. "What is that?"

Kori's lips drew into a smile. "A couple of years ago, VH1 did a show called Flavor of Love. It's about—"

"A weird old rapper who bangs like twenty girls, I heard," Vic cut in.

"Right, well I've been calling around, and I think that kind of show would be perfect for you!"

Gar's jaw dropped. "Kori, you can't be serious!"

"I'm very serious, Gar. In fact, I've already found a director who'd be willing to work on it with us."

The two males looked down at the white business card, which read: 'Rachel Roth—director.'

"I've never heard of her," Vic said.

"I wouldn't have expected you to. She's really good, though. An aspiring director who's done works on shows that weren't filmed in Hollywood. I've already set up a meeting tomorrow with her. What do you say, Gar?"

She never got her response, for Gar had already left.

_---_

Gar smiled to himself as he pushed the door open, hearing the familiar bell. This was his sanctuary, and no one could take it away from him. The waitress beamed as she saw him, instantly pulling out a beer.

"We were all watching you on the T.V., Gar," she said.

He gave a faint smile, looking around the pub. There were the usual late-night customers, the stage, several stacked up chairs, and—someone else sitting at the bar. Now she was new.

She was leaned over a coffee mug, eyes heavy. In the lighting, her hair looked purple. Her skin was a light gray, and from what he could see, her eyes looked almost amethyst-colored. He scooted down next to her.

"Work troubles?" He motioned to the pile of papers next to her.

"You have no idea. I've been in this town for less than two days, and I'm already swamped with work."

"No one said Hollywood would be easy."

"I guess they didn't," she sighed, "but I missed the Oscars. I never miss them; it's a tradition."

Gar guessed she didn't recognize him; the lighting was pretty dim. "I don't find it that interesting. It's just a bunch of actors, most of which probably buy some votes, standing around getting an award, worth less than the consolation prizes the losers get."

She nodded. "I couldn't agree with you more so. I heard Gar Logan won an award—can you believe that?"

"What do you mean?"

"The guy is obviously in it for the money. He never does any charities, he never donates, and yet the media writes him off as a tree-hugging hippie!"

Gar chuckled. "I'd do a little more research on that before you talk to someone who knows him."

"I'm going to have to, then. I got a possible job doing a sleazy dating show-type thing with the guy. The nerve of him! Those shows are really awful; I can't believe he'd want to take part in one."

"I agree with you there. Those shows are completely degrading…I just want to send them through a shredder. But he doesn't strike me as the kind of guy who would like that sort of thing, do you?"

"You can never be too sure with the Hollywood types. He's an asshole," she spat.

Gar sighed and put down the beer. "You need some fun in your life."

"If you can get 'fun' to pay the electricity, then sure, set me up."

"You're funny."

"Am I now? Oh goodie, now I can put that on my résumé. Rachel Roth: Director, bachelors in film, and, oh here's a new one; funny."

Gar began to laugh, before he caught something she said. Rachel Roth? "Rachel Roth?"

"Oops, the cat's out of the bag," she said dryly, rolling her eyes.

"Rachel Roth, the director?"

"My, my, aren't you observant. Well, now that you know my name, what's yours?"

"It isn't important right now," he paused, "You wanna take a walk with me?"

She looked up from her reflection in the dark liquid. "Pardon?"

He shrugged and felt sweat gather on his forehead. "I don't know…you want to go for a walk?"

She blinked once. "It's late at night, dark out, you won't tell me your name, and further more, I don't know you."

"What if I tell you my name?"

"It's a start."

"My name…my name is Vic."

Rachel looked hesitant. "Well, _Vic_, tell me about yourself."

"I grew up in Africa with my parents, moved here after a disease was spreading around that would be fatal to all human life, and I've been here since."

She narrowed her eyes. "Go on. What do you do?"

"I run a Rainforest foundation. I collect money and send it towards rebuilding the Amazons, and other endangered forests."

"Doesn't sound like it pays well," Rachel observed.

"It doesn't, but as long as we're giving back, I'm okay with that. I've got money from my parents for other things. I live off the land. My house has an orchard and garden in the back, and I'm a vegan, so that's all I need, except for drinks."

"How do I know you're not making this all up, and plan to molest me?"

"Do I seem like the molesting type?"

"No, you don't, but that's what makes me unsure about you."

The waitress leaned over the counter, straightening her beehive hairdo. "Listen to the boy. He comes in here all the time. Never breaks any laws, never gets too drunk. He's a good kid, aren't you, _Vic_?"

"Thanks Miriam," Gar shot her a thankful but sharp glance.

Rachel gathered her things and stuffed them into a black bag, leaving some bills beside the mug. "You can walk me to my hotel, and that's it."

He smiled, "Done."

_---_

"So, tell me about yourself."

"Haven't we been down this before? I'm a director, that's all you need to know."

"What if I want to see you again? How will I know to impress you?"

She blushed, but luckily for her, the sky was dark enough that he didn't see. "I-I like roses."

"Roses, got it. What else?"

"I listen to Evanescence, and I like lavender."

Gar smiled, shoving his hands into his pants pocket. "Hmm, sounds romantic."

She cocked her neck. "What does?"

"A moonlit dinner with Evanescence, roses, and lavender scented candles."

Her face flushed again. "You're a romantic."

"That's what people say." He looked up, "Well, this is your hotel."

Rachel didn't understand…she felt, almost sad. "Yup, it is."

She paused at the door, giving him back a slight smile. "Will I see you again?"

_Oh, the irony_, he thought. He grinned, "Sooner than you think."

* * *

**Hrrm, so that's it. I like the idea not as much as my MDRAJ idea, but I promise, I'm going to work on them both, equally.**

**Promise!**

**Please, let me know what you think. Do you like it? Do you not? If you don't, and I don't get at least ten or so reviews, this story is going to the trash. I don't want another one of those kinds of stories.**


	2. Houston, We Have a Problem

**I'm thrilled with the response! I regret saying 'gimme ten reviews, or else!'...'cause I feel like such a jerk for saying it. -sigh- Hope you accept my apology, guys.**

**Disclaimer: -death glare-**

**Ermmmmm, yes. **

* * *

Something was not right. To some, it looked fine. To anyone else, you'd see three friends driving into the heart of Hollywood, each looking excited or happy. But you see, that was the problem—they were _all_ smiling. 

Or at least they were, until two of them noticed something that did not belong. Headphones in place, the shortest member of their party was happily drumming his fingers against the car door as his head swayed rhythmically.

After about ten minutes, Vic tore the iPod from his friend's hands and threw it into the backseat, pulling over. "Okay, I can't take it anymore!"

"Can't take what?" The victim of iPod-thievery asked innocently.

"You…you're…smiling!" Vic stammered.

Gar frowned. "I'm not allowed to smile?"

Once again, Vic was at a loss for words, managing only, "…Well…"

"—You are," Kori cut in, "but we just wouldn't expect you to. We were under the impression that you hated this idea."

"I never said that."

Vic snorted. "You kinda made it clear when you stormed out of the restaurant, man."

"I did not storm!"

Vic opened his mouth to reply, but Kori beat him to it. "The point is that you're acting strange. How many hours of sleep did you get last night? I know you went to the pub—how many beers? Any sleeping pills, injections, drugs—"

"Kori! What is this, an interrogation? I'm clean as a whistle, I swear! I just…feel good this morning. Is that a crime?"

Kori folded her arms and slit her eyes at the blonde-haired man. "We'll see."

---

The three were as different as the way they entered the office-like building. One strode tall and independent, giving off a fierce glow that would make anyone tremble at her feet, another's neck twisted around so many times you'd think he'd suffer from whiplash, taking in every inch of the building like a child would in a toy store, where the last just nonchalantly followed, hands dug firmly in pockets, lazily listening to a song through his headphones.

The receptionist was filing her nails and popping her gum loudly. Her clothes were anything but what you'd expect on a receptionist; black Bermuda shorts that were ripped at the ends, a pink two-quarter length shirt, along with a pair of pink high tops to match the color of her dyed bubblegum-pink hair.

She looked up when she saw them and smiled. "You're Gar Logan's people?"

With a confirmation nod from Kori, the woman got up and pressed a button on the elevator. "I'm Jen," she introduced, "Rachel's assistant. You have any complaints, take them to me, got it?"

She narrowed her eyes at Gar. "You're the actor?"

"That's what it says on the job application," he replied. His head was turned to the side, eyes distantly staring into nothing. Upon entering the building, Gar had become quiet, as though being reminded of something.

"I see," she said. Her voice had lowered, now carrying a sort of icy tone.

The elevator could be heard as it reached the ground floor, giving a sound to signal it had arrived. "Ground rules," Jen said as soon as the doors closed, "Be considerate, don't talk out, listen to what everyone has to say—"

"And will I get a shiny gold star if I behave, teacher?" Gar sighed.

"—_No_ headphones, no being a smartass, and well—no, you probably shouldn't talk at all."

"I'll try to remember that." He shifted his weight and leaned against the elevator wall, quietly pulling the headphones out of his ears.

Gar fell back within the group, lagging behind Vic by a good few yards. The smile had faded, just a solemn line for his lips and hazed over eyes. The room was somewhat executive like, just more casual. A round mahogany stood as the center piece, surrounded by half a dozen black chairs. Behind a few of the chairs was a white board, across it written 'Brainstorms'.

He gasped inwardly as he saw her, looking just as tired as the night before. She was dressed nicer, however, with a black blazer and slacks over a blue turtleneck. Her hair was neatly pulled behind her in a bun, and light lines of color were around her eyes. She gave what could be thought of as a smile, clearly something she wasn't familiar with, as they shuffled in.

Her eyes rested on Gar, who was desperately looking around the room—anywhere but at her.

"Vic?" She cocked her neck.

Vic, who had his back to her as he inspected the whiteboard, spun around, "Yeah?"

"…No, Vic."

"What about me?"

Rachel's brows furrowed. "Your name is Vic, too?"

Vic's eyes widened with momentary shock. "There's more than one?"

Her eyes resumed lock on Gar. Vic, noticing this, jerked his thumb back at the sheepish blond. "Gar?"

The pieces of the puzzle hadn't been put in place for Rachel just yet. "…Gar?"

Kori, already realizing what had happened, hissed, "Gar!"

There was a silence. All eyes rested on Gar, save for Jen. Her eyes darted around from person to person, finally breaking the still, "...Jen? Well, now that we are all acquainted—"

"Gar, as in Gar Logan? Gar Logan, the actor?"

He said nothing.

"Gar Logan, the _asshole_?"

"Just 'the actor' would've been fine, thanks."

"You told me your name was Vic!"

"You did what?" Vic interrupted. He sat back in a chair and shrugged. "Don't blame the guy."

Her eyes lost their anger, now looking betrayed. "Why wouldn't you tell me your name?"

Before he could reply, Jen spoke up, "I don't think it matters right now. Can we just get down to business?"

Rachel's face hardened as she coughed. "Right—well, we need to sort out a few things before we start. First things first, we need a host. He or she needs to be good looking, known around 'the scene', and smart enough to read a teleprompter."

Vic grinned, "How about Rich Grayson?"

All three female's eyebrows shot up. "You know Rich Grayson?" Jen stuttered.

Vic smiled at Gar. "Sure do. Me, Gar, an' him go way back."

"Is he even available? I thought he was still on tour."

"Well he landed in America a few days ago. He's just resting it up with his dad in Gotham, so to most, he's still technically away."

Jen raised an eyebrow at the flushing Kori. "What about you, Kori? Do you know him too?"

"W-we've met…once or twice," she mumbled, shooting an if-you-tell-I'll-kill-you glare at Gar and Vic.

Another uncomfortable silence draped over them like a curtain. Rachel coughed, bringing them back into reality. "Well…yes, he'd be perfect. Vic, could you call him and see if he'd be willing to do it?"

Vic chuckled, "He'd better. The man owes me favors."

She nodded. "Next is a crew. We'll need to hire a good camera man and lighting director, among other things."

"Got that covered, too," Vic said, pulling out a red and yellow business card from his wallet, "He's the guy who worked with Gar on his last movie. His attention span isn't much, so you'll need to keep him occupied, but he's good with a camera. As far as lighting—I don't know."

Jen tapped a pencil to her chin. "We can work that out, later."

"Right," Rachel said firmly, "next subject—" She looked towards Gar for a split second before directing her attention towards her papers, "—is the girls.

"We'll need a nationwide search to find the girls—we'll pick maybe two dozen and fly them here for the first 'elimination round'. You'll eliminate…around half of them, and then we'll move the show to another place."

"Another place?" Kori asked.

Rachel nodded. "Somewhere where it's fairly quiet, romantic, and provides good activities…We've got money, so that isn't an issue."

Gar looked up from the hands in his lap, "How about France?"

Everyone stared at him. He shrugged. "What? At this time of year, the snows good, you can rent a nice cozy chalet, and anyone who says France isn't romantic is clinically insane."

Nodding approvals were exchanged all around. "That's a…nice idea," Rachel observed. She sounded somewhat hostile, feigning surprise that he could come up with an idea such as that.

"Why the do you hate me so much?" He said through his teeth, keeping his gaze lowered.

"What was that?"

"I said, why the hell do you hate me!"

"I-I…" She faltered momentarily, "Because! You're an idiotic, ignorant, an imbecile, arrogant, you don't care about anyone but yourself—"

"Hey, whoa, whoa," Vic interrupted, putting a hand between the two glaring people, "I think there's a big misunderstanding here…"

"There's no misunderstanding," Rachel said calmly. She sighed and rubbed her temples, sinking back into her chair. "Can we just move on?"

"Fine," Gar growled.

Rachel blinked once towards the ground, then looked up, voice completely devoid of any emotion, "We'll start the search tomorrow. We'll give them a few weeks to get the tapes in, and then we'll close the contest. Understood?"

Gar didn't reply, just scoffed and looked out a window. As they exited down the hallway, there was a silence, awkward, and so thick you could slice through it. Vic cleared his throat. "Well that went…well. I say we celebrate? Who wants waffles?"

"Vic, it is already past the noon," Kori sighed.

Both boys stopped in their tracks, "What did you just say?"

Quickly turning her head away, her voice sharpened, "Nothing, nothing." She paused, "I say we go for Chinese."

"Fine by me," Vic agreed. When Gar didn't reply, Vic nudged him in the rib. "That okay with you, man?"

A hollow look in his eyes, Gar smiled broadly. "Dudes, you know I'm always up for Chinese."

---

From her newly acquired office, Rachel watched the three pile into a blue and white car. Finally growing bored with watching the empty parking space where the car had been, she turned to see Jen leaning against her desk, which was still being added to.

"He's cuter in person," Jen grinned.

"Not really," Rachel shook her head, sighing.

"Mm, you're right," her grin widened, "he's gorgeous."

Her dark-haired boss closed her eyes, shaking her head, "…Jen…"

"Right, right, cue the shutting up, I got it. But really, how do you intend to work with the guy? I mean you were at each other's throats."

Rachel said nothing. "Well—no need to try and comfort my growing fear that this will somehow blow up in our faces, we've checked with Houston and it's been confirmed that the meteor _will_ hit and kill us all!"

* * *

**Okay, so as you see, I'm introducing the titans kind of slowly. Most of the characters in this will be Titans or on the show, one way or another. **

**As for the character's OOC-ness, I'm getting to that. Well, Kori's OOC for a reason. The others--trying not to make them that way.**

**Okay, now I brainstrom for MDRAJ...**

**Oh, and um, review!**


	3. Hey Is For Horses

**I'm sorry to say this will probably be my last update for a while. But this time, I have another reason besides depression! I'm going on vacation. Hopefully that will cheer me up. **

**Note to all the people who send me PM's: You may notice I don't always respond to your PM's. I'm so grateful and flattered that you all care so much, but sometimes I don't have time and then I forget if I've replied or not. I will eventually reply, I promise. I'm sorry...ech.**

**Anyway, I don't like the ending on this chapter, but I had to go when I wrote it, and didn't feel like writing much. But hey, at least I got something up. And no one died! **

**Disclaimer: -claws disclaimer's eyes out-**

**Shorter chapter, sorry.**

* * *

"It's strange, isn't it?"

"What is, Kor?" Victor asked, not bothering to swallow his Tomato Beef Chow Mien before speaking.

"How Gar flirts with Rachel."

"You're lucky as hell Gar ain't here right now, Kori," Victor laughed.

"I've got a few minutes before he gets back from the bathroom. But in all honesty, don't you agree?"

"No."

"You don't think he doesn't flirt the least bit?"

"…No…"

"Denial is like karma, Victor. It just comes around and bites you in the butt later."

"Why are you telling me this? I hate this mushy, gushy, girly-feely crap."

"It's not crap, Vic," Kori said bluntly, "it's about being observant. Something your species hasn't yet picked up yet. Unless, of course, it's about who won the Super Bowl or something else like that."

"Man, are you trying to tell me I'm of a different species?"

Kori didn't have to reply, as Gar got back into his seat at that moment. "Picking on Vic again Kor?"

"He had it coming," She shrugged. Under her breath, she mumbled, "And so do you."

---

Gar's eyes widened as Jen poured a box of tapes onto the table.

"Holy sh…"

Jen snorted. "And this is just the first box."

Vic nudged his friend playfully. "Who'd a thunk it, Gar?"

"Apparently not your English teacher," Rachel interjected, rubbing her temples. Phones had been ringing off the hooks for hours, on top of other _female_ problems. Needless to say, a good cup of tea and a Midol would hit the spot. "Did you contact Mr. Grayson yet, Kori?"

"I…uh, yes, I left a message with his manager. He'll do it," she said nervously.

Rachel nodded to Jen. "Put the first tape in."

The television screen shook as a pair of hands steadied the camera and backed away slowly. The background was scenic; a small campsite stood between scattered redwood trees. A dog passed the camera. The girl filming was skinny with long blonde hair and eyes the color of the sky on a warm summer's day. She waved.

"Hi," she said, "I'm Tara. I don't watch much T.V., but my old college roommate told me about this contest, 'cause she knew I was such a fan of your work. Oops," she giggled, "I think I skipped a few lines…"

Unknown to the rest of the group, Rachel's temple was pulsing harder than it had one minute ago. Whether it was at the fact that Gar's smile was as wide as it gets or the fact that she desperately needed sleep remained to be seen.

"…And uh, yeah! So…hopefully, I'll see you guys soon!"

The tape rolled to a finish and Jen pulled out the tape. "Whatcha guys think?"

"Yes," Gar said almost immediately.

"No," Rachel disagreed, crossing her arms. "She's definitely a poser. No one lives in the woods like that!"

Jen rubbed her chin. "Interesting…I say we settle it with a vote!" Jen turned to Victor.

"She seemed cool, and I'll go with what my buddy says, since he's the one who's gotta date her," Victor said coolly. Gar slapped him a high five.

"I agree with Victor," Kori nodded her head. Rachel's eyes narrowed, snorting a bit.

"Well…I thought she was pretty cool, too," Jen admitted sheepishly. At this, Rachel's eyes bulged.

"Jen! I'm the one paying you!"

"Democracy," Jen grinned. "So she's in. Who's ready for the next tape?"

"Not me," Rachel muttered, pushing back her chair.

"Rachel!" Victor called, "You gotta stay! You need to be here for this! Rachel!"

Gar sighed, leaning back in his chair. "Is she always like this?"

"Only around you," Jen said. As she was in the back, no one noticed Kori's eyes squint smugly.

"I'll get her."

"No Jen, stay," Gar instructed, beating Jen to the door. "This is between us."

---

Rachel pulled out a pack of cigarettes, preparing to light one, when a voice spoke from behind,

"You know, I highly disapprove of smoking."

"I've been trying to stop," Rachel sighed, forgetting for the moment who the voice belonged to, "but he's just so damn irritating—"

"Who is?"

As realization hit, Rachel nearly chuckled. "You aren't seriously asking that, are you?"

He leaned against the side of the building next to her, speaking only after a good twenty seconds, "You really don't like me, do you?"

_I don't know, actually_. "Not really."

"Can we at least be civilized to each other?"

"I am being civilized. It's not my fault you like blonde, poser-bimbos."

"You're right."

"Thank you."

"It's not your fault you're jealous."

"I am _not_ jealous!"

"Oh?"

"I-I…I just think she'll be annoying to work with!"

"S-ure," Gar laughed, "And I'm not really a man."

"Admitting your problem is the first step, you know. There's nothing wrong with drag."

"You don't like letting people in, do you?"

"Of course I do. I just don't like letting idiots like **you** in."

"Mind me asking why?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

Rachel took a long puff on the cigarette. Man, this guy was exasperating. "Why what?"

"Why don't you like letting idiots like me in?"

"You're often too good looking for your own good," Rachel said without thinking. Her face flushed and she quickly caught herself, "You're ego gets too big, and you just end up hurting the person, AKA, me."

"You think I'm good looking then?"

"I never said that."

"No, I think you did. You specifically said that you don't like idiots like me in because we're too good looking."

"Shut up."

"Aha! You admit it!"

"You're imagining things. Get off the hallucinogens, Gar."

"Never," he smiled widely, "give me that." Without waiting for Rachel's reply, Gar grabbed the cigarette and threw it on the ground, promptly destroying it with his shoe.

"Hey!"

"Hey is for horses!" Rachel's eyes rolled for how many times that day? "Second-hand smoke kills!"

Rachel's hand flew to her mouth. "Oh no, I wouldn't want _you_ to die of lung poisoning!"

She paused, watching his smug response. Hmm, he really was that dense. "I'd be nicer if it were something much more pleasant, like choking or drowning!"

"You're not very nice, you know."

"Hence the reason I have no friends?"

"You've got friends."

"Name four."

"Well that's not quite far, since I don't know you that well. But…Jen…Kori, Victor—"

"That's three. And—"

"And," he smiled, winking before returning to the building, "me."

For the first time in days, Rachel was left speechless.

---

"And we're on in 5, 4, 3, 2…" The cameraman's mouth snapped close, finishing counting off with his fingers. He mouthed the word 'one' and pointed at a taller man with spiky black hair and icy blue eyes.

"Hello! I'm Richard Grayson, and welcome to the show that you will talk about with your friends, saying how cliché and overused it is, and yet still watch it for the updates every Sunday!

"Meet Garfield Logan; he's young, single, and looking for a girl to complete his life. So we've picked twelve girls for Gar to meet. Welcome to the first elimination round; today's elimination will eliminate half of the dozen girls.

"How does it feel to be here, Gar?"

Gar looked straight into the camera, sipping is wine. He raised his glass, smiling with an almost drunk vibe. "It feels hella boring, Rich. In fact, I think I'll get drunk to make it more interesting."

"Cut!" Rachel screamed louder than necessary. "Gar, quit it!"

"What? I'm just trying to make it more exciting!"

"Getting drunk doesn't make it more exciting, you idiot!"

"Does for me," he grinned.

Had anyone been paying close attention, they would've seen Rachel's eye noticeably twitching. "Gar, do _not_ start with me! From the top!"

"Hello! I'm Richard Grayson, and welcome to the show that you will talk about with your friends, saying how cliché and overused it is, and yet still watch it for the updates—"

"Richard! That isn't in your script!"

"That's what I said earlier and you didn't have a problem with it! And yes, it is!"

"I wasn't listening to you earlier! I had to make sure Gar didn't screw up."

"So…you were ogling Gar?"

Gar smirked. "_No_!"

"Look, it says right here: Hello! I'm Richard Grayson, and welcome to the show that you will talk about with your friends, saying how cliché and overused it is, and yet still watch it for the updates every Sunday!" Richard pointed to the white stapled pile of papers, which indeed, said just that.

What Richard hadn't pointed out was that someone had crossed out a previous paragraph and had written that in. "…Gar…" Rachel growled.

"…Eh, heh…I thought it would make it more interesting?"

"**Gar!**"

* * *

**Whoo, I didn't feel like writing a Kori-Richard interaction or a Gar-contestant interaction. I'm so lazy. Bleh.**

**Okay. I didn't, as I said above, like this ending, but um, yes. Lots of dialogue, but that's to be expected of me. A lot of my chapters are dialogue. **

**Next chapter will probably just go straight to France, and then I'll finally get some Kori-Richard insight. How much, I dunno. Toodles for a few days, guys! **

**(I'll try to check my email and if there's a computer I'll try to go on FF and review s'more!)**

**Review?**


	4. Said The Doctor

**I think I'm getting better about not having so much dialogue in my stories.**

**Sorry for the long wait, and sorry about all my stories, really. Go to my MDRAJ story for insight why. **

**Disclaimer: blah blah blah, I bet these are just a myth anyway.**

**I'm also sorry this chapter will be so boring. Just character and story development.**

* * *

"And…cut! Good job, Rich," Rachel said, rubbing the bridge of her nose as she brought the coffee to her lips. She had changed clothes, after having the klutzy cameraman Wally spill her first cup on her. She now wore a pair of low-rise black jeans and a black tank-top underneath a see-through black lace blouse that buttoned at the neck. "Alright Gar, you did manage not to screw up or steal all the attention in that one, so we'll use it. You can go and mingle, now."

Sticking his tongue out, Gar made his way to the stairs, only to be stopped by Tara before he reached them. She put a hand on his arm and flashed him a smile.

"Look Gar, I know you're a great person so I won't care if you don't pick me," she said, throwing her hair back.

Gar looked grateful and smiled back at her. "Thanks; it's good to know there isn't too much pressure."

"Oh, I would never pressure you!" She gushed, wrapping her hands around his arms.

---

"Gimme that," Jinx growled, snatching away the lighter and cigarette from Rachel. She waved it around in front of Rachel's face. "First of all, we're in someone else's house and it's terribly rude, and second of all, it'll kill you and all of us. Namely me, since I have to put up with you so much!"

Rachel folded her arms and snorted. As she did so, her body slightly turned and she found herself watching Gar chatting away with Terra. _Good, that's good!_ She told herself, _We want interaction, he should like them. He should, he should. He should flirt, he should smile in that way that lits up the room, he should make fun of her in that way you know is playful, he should_—

"You're staring, Rachel," Jinx taunted, waving a finger in her face.

"Am not," Rachel snapped back. "I was observing how he interacted with the girls, _not_ staring."

Jinx winked. "Whatever you say—but then, if you don't mind me asking, why were you scowling while you," she held up her fingers, making quotes around the word, "observing?"

"Simple," Rachel said, sticking her chin in the air. When she didn't continue, Jen's eyebrow raised cockily. Luckily for our heroine, Rachel was a quick thinker, "I hate that outfit Tara's wearing! Absolutely dreadful. Horrible little cocktail gown."

"But its blue," Jen argued. "And isn't blue your favorite color?"

"But look at the back on that thing! It's only centimeters above her ass."

"What about the dress you wore to those awards in Canada? That had a pretty low back," Jen pointed out.

Grabbing a champagne class, Rachel turned on her heel. "I need a smoke."

"Fine!" Jen called after her. "But when you die of lung cancer, I get your money!"

---

Rachel leaned against the wall, preparing to light the cigarette, when a voice spoke out to her left, "That's the second time I've caught you. You're on my property, so no smoking."

She continued to raise it to her lips until it was forcefully ripped from her hands. "No smoking," he repeated slowly, pushing her against the wall. Rachel felt helpless and hated it. She wriggled in his arms, trying to be free of the stare his eyes sent down on her. _I never noticed how green his eyes are,_ she mused.

"Well sor-ry. I thought you would've been too busy chatting it up with the bi—girls to notice."

"Wrong," he said, grinning. "I was watching you all night; just to be sure you wouldn't sneak out to smoke. I'm gonna rip you of your habit; maybe get you to laugh once or twice too."

"Good luck with that. You do realize that I don't like you at all, so what out of that evidence led you to think would I laugh with you? I might _at_ you, but that's completely different from laughing with you."

"I don't think that! I think you secretly have intimate fantasies about me, watch me from afar, completely jealous of every other girl in the room who has my attention. It's so obvious Rachel, come on," he said in an overdramatic voice.

"Don't flatter yourself," She hissed, kicking him in the shin. He doubled over, clutching his hurt leg.

---

Jen poked her head around the building, smiling as she saw Rachel. "Hey there Miss Thang," She said, sitting against the wall with her friend.

"What did you just call me?" Rachel asked, appalled.

"Never mind," Jen laughed. She counted off her fingers. "They're looking for you all over, you know. Karen, the make-up artist we hired, can't find her blush set, our lighting is completely screwed up for the elimination round, and Wally's sound…thingy is missing."

"He's an idiot," Rachel said bluntly.

"Kind of cute though," Jen added. She paused a beat, watching Rachel twiddle with the cigarette pack in her hands.

"Gar has me on radar with these things. You'd think his senses are magnified ten fold," Rachel explained bitterly.

Changing the subject, Jen shook her head out of her loose ponytail and said, "It's a funny thing, though. Because I thought—I know, silly me—that directors were supposed to, oh, I don't know…direct people? Rachel, what's with you? You're way offline today."

"I know," Rachel sighed. "I just can't focus. This is what I hate about this kind of reality TV. I mean, the girls are gorgeous, any man we have on set is drooling or drowning in his own testosterone level, and something always seems to go wrong."

"But you're around me all the time and _I'm_ gorgeous," Jen pointed out. "No problem then."

"Yes but luckily, your ego is big enough to remind me why I should work hard and have no social life. With Gar and Kori and Vic and all these people its too hard not to try and be social."

"You say it like it's a bad thing."

"It _is_ a bad thing."

"Whatever," Jen stuck out her tongue in defeat, but she still had a mission. "I don't care how antisocial and Emo you try to be, there comes a point in every girl's life when—"

"Dear god no, not this talk again…" Rachel began.

"—shut up," Jen barked. "…She must live up to her expectations and stop hell from freezing over. It's chaos in there! I'm scared to go back, Mommy. Turn on my night-light baby, 'cause the monster's out of the closet."

"Why are you off camera with me? You should be up there, hamming it up." Rachel asked, sliding her forehead into her palm.

"What, and waste my super-cal-afiscious-expi-ala-docious acting talents on you?"

"That makes no sense," Rachel sighed.

"Said the doctor, but all knew what happened to _him_!"

"I can't stand you anymore; I'm leaving," Raven said, standing up. As she stormed off, Jen kicked her flip-flops off her feet and slipped a pair of headphones into her ears. A smile tugged at her lips as she saw the cigarette pack had been left where Rachel had sat.

---

"Kori? Kori, is that you?" Rich called, seeing auburn locks turn around a corner. She turned, immediately regretting doing so. She looked horrible, by her standards. In a purple mini-dress that hugged her curves like _that_, it was hard to look bad. "Wow, Kori Anders! What are you doing here?"

"Richard," Kori greeted sharply. "I happen to work here; I'm Gar's stylist."

"No kidding," He laughed, placing his sunglasses on the top of his head. "I'm—"

"The host, I know," Kori interjected. She looked anywhere but his eyes. "Congratulations, although I have to say you had the odds slightly in your favor. By knowing both the main star of the show _and_ his manager, it would be difficult not to get the job."

Rich frowned, quickening his pace to keep up with her. "Kori, what's wrong?"

"Nothing is wrong," She hissed. She walked faster, feeling the dangly earrings bounce around at her jaw. He grabbed at her elbow, causing her to spin back and face him.

"Why are you ignoring me like this? Kori, what happened to you?"

"You!" She turned and shrieked, jabbing a finger at his chest. "You happened, Richard! I don't care how young we were or how naïve, it still happened. You can't go on acting like it didn't!"

"Kori," he pleaded. "Kori, come on, be reasonable. We were seventeen!"

She snatched her arm from him and continued down the hall, hating herself for letting the bitter, salty tears roll down her cheeks. They, like the memories of teenage temptation and passion, stained forever.

---

"Okay man, are you ready? Breathe in, breathe out. It's okay if you want a glass of water or something to calm your stomach; it's perfectly reasonable if you're a little nervous. I mean, it is a really big deal—"

"Victor!" Gar laughed, swiping his friend's hand away. "I'm not going through labor; relax!" He shot him a final glare and turned away from his friend, adjusting his bow tie in the mirror. "Do I have to wear a tie?" He whined. From behind them spoke a feminine voice:

"Hmm," Kori made a sound from her throat. She waved her finger in a circle. "Do a spin for me. It's a little too formal for your style, but—"

"Kori what are you doing here? When did you—were you crying?"

"No," She replied harshly. "Come on, spin." He spun slowly, rolling his eyes and grumbling. "Yeah, I see what you mean. You'll never be comfortable. Take your shirt off."

Vic's jaw dropped. "Kori…"

"Oh, shove it," She snapped. Vic immediately took a step back and raised his hands in defense. Kori retreated into Gar's closet and returned with a purple button up shirt. She threw it and it hit him square in the head. "Put it on," Kori commanded.

Gar obeyed, but left it unbuttoned. "I've got a good half hour before the elimination, I'm gonna go get a bite to eat," He said. Kori called after him, yelling something about stains and new shirts, but he was already too far down the hall to comprehend it all. As he walked, he felt a presence collide with his shoulder. It wasn't a strong force, but obviously female. He knew Kori was back in the room and the other girls were preparing themselves, so that left a few choices.

He doubted it was Karen, the make-up girl, as she was taller than him and definitely stronger and there was no way he could knock her over. That left him with Jen, Crystal, the lighting girl, and Rachel. He looked down to see who he'd knocked into, and was surprised it was two out of three.

"Sorry Rachel," He exclaimed, bending down to help her up. She shot him a sharp glance, but took his hand anyway. She brushed off her lace blouse and straightened the glasses she wore only occasionally, whereas Jen, who had been with her, leaned against the wall and watched them, smirking approvingly.

"Nice shirt," Jen observed. Gar blushed and his hand found its way to the back of his neck.

"Yeah, shut up," He said, but yet still made no movement to button it up.

"What are you wearing? I thought we agreed on a tux and tie?" Rachel exclaimed, eyeing his still not-brushed hair and bare feet.

"Ah, but I got permission from the _other_ Mother Superior," Gar explained, holding his pointer finger up at the ceiling.

"That doesn't explain your un-brushed hair, bare feet, and unbuttoned shirt—"

"Yeah, by the way, I like the four-pack. Do you shave your chest?" Jen interrupted, tilting her head.

"Jen!" Rachel cried.

"Why no, actually," Gar said, playing along. "It's just sooo naturally smooth. It's strange, because I've never touched a razor in my life; even when I was on the swim team—"

"Everyone shut up!" Raven screeched, throwing both of her arms out as if she was trying to stop an outburst between the two. "You," she pointed at Gar, "get that smirk off your face and go get fucking ready!" Jen snickered. "And you," she turned on Jen, "stop laughing at my problems and confusing me with meaningless—what you call—Confucianism's!"

As soon as Rachel's back was turned to them, Jen stuck out her tongue, crossed her eyes, and put the thumbs of her spread out hands on her temples at Rachel. Gar giggled and Rachel screamed, "Quit it, Jen!"

* * *

**I love writing Jen. Even if thats not necessarily her on the show, as she's more independant and strong, and not so wild, I like having at least one rebel character. Meh. **

**I'm sorry it sucked so bad. Next chapter will be spicier, with the elimination round and the introduction of France. (I love France, btw)**

**I hope you found something you liked, and I'd love it if you reviewed. ;D**

**By the way, 100 reviews at 3 chapters? You guys _rock_! **


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